– pushed – me,” sobbed Elsie. “She wanted me to tell her my secret, and I wouldn’t. She’s a bad, naughty girl!”
“Well, Katy Carr, I should think you’d be ashamed of yourself,” said Aunt Izzie, “wreaking your temper on your poor little sister! I think your Cousin Helen will be surprised when she hears this. There, there, Elsie! Don’t cry any more, dear. Come up stairs with me. I’ll put on some arnica, and Katy sha’n’t hurt you again.”
So they went up stairs. Katy, left below, felt very miserable: repentant, defiant, discontented, and sulky all at once. She knew in her heart that she had not meant to hurt Elsie, and was thoroughly ashamed of that push; but Aunt Izzie’s hint about telling Cousin Helen, had made her too angry to allow of her confessing this to herself or anybody else.
“I don’t care!” she murmured, choking back her tears. “Elsie is a real cry-baby, anyway. And Aunt Izzie always takes her part. Just because I told the little silly not to go and send a great heavy slate to the post-office!”
She went out by the side-door into the yard. As she passed the shed, the new swing caught her eye.
“How exactly like Aunt Izzie,” she thought, “ordering the children not to swing till she gives them leave. I suppose she thinks it’s too hot, or something. I sha’n’t mind her, anyhow.”
She seated herself in the swing. It was a first rate one, with a broad comfortable seat, and thick new ropes. The seat hung just the right distance from the floor. Alexander was a capital hand at putting up swings, and the wood-shed the nicest possible spot in which to have one.
It was a big place, with a very high roof. There was not much wood left in it just now, and the little there was, was piled neatly about the sides of the shed, so as to leave plenty of room. The place felt cool and dark, and the motion of the swing seemed to set the breeze blowing. It waved Katy’s hair like a great fan, and made her dreamy and quiet. All sorts of sleepy ideas began to flit through her brain. Swinging to and fro like the pendulum of a great clock, she gradually rose higher and higher, driving herself along by the motion of her body, and striking the floor smartly with her foot at every sweep. Now she was at the top of the high arched door. Then she could almost touch the cross-beam above it, and through the small square window could see pigeons sitting and pluming themselves on the eaves of the barn and white clouds blowing over the blue sky. She had never swung so high before. It was like flying she thought, and she bent and curved more strongly in the seat, trying to send herself yet higher, and graze the roof with her toes.
Suddenly, at the very highest point of the sweep, there was a sharp noise of cracking. The swing gave a violent twist, spun half round and tossed Katy into the air. She clutched the rope, – felt it dragged from her grasp, – then, down, – down – down – she fell. All grew dark, and she knew no more.
When she opened her eyes she was lying on the sofa in the dining-room. Clover was kneeling beside her with a pale, scared face, and Aunt Izzie was dropping something cold and wet on her forehead.
“What’s the matter?” said Katy, faintly.
“Oh, she’s alive – she’s alive!” and Clover put her arms round Katy’s neck and sobbed.
“Hush, dear!” Aunt Izzie’s voice sounded unusually gentle. “You’ve had a bad tumble, Katy. Don’t you recollect?”
“A tumble? Oh, yes – out of the swing,” said Katy, as it all came slowly back to her. “Did the rope break, Aunt Izzie? I can’t remember about it.”
“No, Katy, not the rope. The staple drew out of the roof. It was a cracked one, and not safe. Don’t you recollect my telling you not to swing to-day? Did you forget?”
“No, Aunt Izzie – I didn’t forget. I – ” but here Katy broke down. She closed her eyes, and big tears rolled from under the lids.
“Don’t cry,” whispered Clover, crying herself; “please don’t. Aunt Izzie isn’t going to scold you.” But Katy was too weak and shaken not to cry.
“I think I’d like to go up stairs and lie on the bed,” she said. But when she tried to get off the sofa everything swam before her, and she fell back again on the pillow.
“Why, I can’t stand up!” she gasped, looking very much frightened.
“I’m afraid you’ve given yourself a sprain somewhere,” said Aunt Izzie, who looked rather frightened herself. “You’d better lie still a while, dear, before you try to move. Ah, here’s the doctor! well, I am glad.” And she went forward to meet him. It wasn’t Papa, but Dr. Alsop, who lived quite near them.
“I am so relieved that you could come,” Aunt Izzie said. “My brother has gone out of town not to return till to-morrow, and one of the little girls has had a bad fall.”
Dr. Alsop sat down beside the sofa and counted Katy’s pulse. Then he began feeling all over her.
“Can you move this leg?” he asked.
Katy gave a feeble kick.
“And this?”
The kick was a good deal more feeble.
“Did that hurt you?” asked Dr. Alsop, seeing a look of pain on her face.
“Yes, a little,” replied Katy, trying hard not to cry.
“In your back, eh? Was the pain high up or low down?” and the doctor punched Katy’s spine for some minutes, making her squirm uneasily.
“I’m afraid she’s done some mischief,” he said, at last, “but it’s impossible to tell yet exactly what. It may only be a twist, or a slight sprain,” he added, seeing the look of terror on Katy’s face. “You’d better get her up stairs and undress her as soon as you can, Miss Carr. I’ll leave a prescription to rub her with.” And Dr. Alsop took out a bit of paper and began to write.
“Oh, must I go to bed?” said Katy. “How long will I have to stay there, doctor?”
“That depends on how fast you get well,” replied the doctor; “not long, I hope. Perhaps only a few days.”
“A few days!” repeated Katy in a despairing tone.
After the doctor was gone, Aunt Izzie and Debby lifted Katy and carried her slowly up stairs. It was not easy, for every motion hurt her, and the sense of being helpless hurt most of all. She couldn’t help crying after she was undressed and put into bed. It all seemed so dreadful and strange. If only Papa was here, she thought. But Dr. Carr had gone into the country to see somebody who was very sick, and couldn’t possibly be back till to-morrow.
Such a long, long afternoon as that was! Aunt Izzie sent up some dinner, but Katy couldn’t eat. Her lips were parched and her head ached violently. The sun began to pour in, the room grew warm. Flies buzzed in the window, and tormented her by lighting on her face. Little prickles of pain ran up and down her back. She lay with her eyes shut, because it hurt to keep them open, and all sorts of uneasy thoughts went rushing through her mind.
“Perhaps, if my back is really sprained, I shall have to lie here as much as a week,” she said to herself. “Oh, dear, dear! I can’t. The vacation is only eight weeks, and I was going to do such lovely things! How can people be so
